


the joy found in small moments

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [124]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fluff! fluff! fluff!!, it's so fucking soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: Newt makes cinnamon rolls
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [124]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Kudos: 23





	the joy found in small moments

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "newt makes CINNAMON ROLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLS"

The sunlight filters in softly through the blinds; seeping quietly between the cracks and lighting the room with a soft glow. It’s early still; the sun’s only just risen a while ago, but Newt’s been up since before sunrise—he’s always been a bit of a light sleeper.

He’s not complaining, though; at least, not this morning; it’s a Saturday, and he doesn’t have any plans today—or at least, not any plans that require leaving the apartment, especially not at—he casts a glance at the clock—almost six-thirty in the morning.

No; the bed is warm, the day is young, and, most importantly, Hermann’s head is pillowed on his chest; rising and falling as Newt breathes; hair soft and slightly red in the lighting.

 _God,_ Newt thinks and smiles softly, warmth filling his chest, _I love you so much._

The alarm goes off.

“Fuck!” Newt yelps, jerking up on reflex, and basically dumps Hermann off onto the bed.

“Nng,” Hermann moans, cracking a single eye to glare balefully at Newt, “turn it _off._ ”

“I’m _trying!_ ” Newt retorts, fumbling with the alarm clock. “Bastard,” he hisses, “I thought I made sure it was off—why the _fuck_ is it so _fiddly_ —” Finally, though, he manages to get it off; gives a triumphant crow. “ _Hah!_ ” He sets it back on the bedside table; turns to Hermann.

The other’s pulled a pillow over his head. “I hate you,” he says; muffled, from beneath it. “I was having _such_ a lovely sleep…” he trails off; sighs. “Ah, well; nothing to be done for it, I suppose.”

“Aw, no, Herms,” Newt says, softly, tugs the sheets up. “Here—it’s really early; how about you just take a bit longer to lay down and I’ll get breakfast and stuff all done up, ‘kay? My treat—I forgot to turn my alarm off, so I should at least try and make up for it a bit.”

There’s silence; for a moment, and then Hermann pulls the pillow back and rolls to face Newt; says, grudgingly, “Oh, alright, I suppose.”

Newt grins. “Good,” he says, and pecks Hermann’s cheek. “You just hang tight there, dude—I’m gonna treat you.”

He spends a few minutes going through the closet looking for something suitably comfortable to wear; ends up deciding on one of Hermann’s few non-button-up shirts and a pair of shorts; ignores Hermann’s indignant huff behind him and makes his way to the kitchen.

He closes his eyes for a moment; toes curling at the coolness of the linoleum beneath his feet, and the still morning air raising the hair on his arms; breath moving in and out evenly; opens his eyes and opens the fridge.

There’s some plain leftover noodles from last night; he grabs the container as well as a few eggs and the plastic bag with half an onion in it; sets them all on the counter and nearly closes the fridge before he thinks, _Oh, I_ know.

It’s hardly any extra hassle, really, and he knows it’ll make Hermann smile at him in that way he does when Newt does something particularly sweet; crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. So he pulls out a stick of butter and the milk and then a few other ingredients, and a couple of bowls and then an apron; lets the stuff get to room temp as he fries the Polish noodles; puts a plate over the pan to keep them warm as he makes the cinnamon rolls.

The flour and butter meld into one as he presses them into each other; dry to flaky and then, finally, just right; shapes it into a ball and spreads flour out onto the counter; grabs the rolling pin.

Just as he’s about to begin rolling it out, arms wrap around him; startling him. “Hey!”

“Cinnamon rolls?” Hermann murmurs, his smile pressed into the nape of Newt’s neck.

“You’re supposed to be lying down,” Newt says with a scowl; but it’s mostly for show. “Breakfast’s done—I was just gonna stick these in the oven for later.”

“Mm,” Hermann murmurs, and then, “oh, God, are you wearing that _awful_ apron?”

Newt’s scowl morphs into a grin. “Yep,” he says, popping the p; dusts his hands off over the counter and turns to face Hermann, the other’s arms dropping to his waist, and he relishes the grimace that passes over the other’s expression. “Kiss the cook,” he says, and smiles even more widely.

“Shut up,” Hermann huffs, but obliges. “You’re awful,” he says, when he breaks away.

“Yep,” Newt says, again, “now I gotta get the cinnamon rolls done, babe, so you gotta let go of me.”

Hermann grumbles something unintelligible, but reluctantly pulls away; watches him roll the dough out and spread the butter and cinnamon and sugar on and then roll it up and cut it; pack it into the pan and stick it into the oven. “Okay,” he says, “can you get the plates, Herms? My hands are kinda gunky.”

“Of course,” Hermann says, and pulls out plates and forks as Newt washes off his hands and tidies up the counter. “Do you want to serve yourself, or…?”

Newt shakes his head. “Nah, go ahead, thanks; I’ll grab water.”

Hermann gives an affirmative, and Newt grabs their mugs; his own with the cartoon dino on it, and Hermann’s plain blue one; sets them down for a moment to flick on the light in the oven. The cinnamon rolls are rising; they should be done in five or six minutes.

When he gets out to the table, Hermann’s waiting for him. Newt sets his mug down with a smile. “Thanks for waiting,” he says; softly.

Hermann smiles back at him. “Of course,” he replies. “And—thank you, Newton. This is…very nice.”

“'Course,” Newt says, “it’s the least I could do.”

“You could take off that _awful_ apron,” Hermann says, pointedly, and Newt laughs.

“Oh, alright,” he says, “only for you, babe.”

“Thank you,” Hermann says.

“The things I do for you,” Newt sighs dramatically as he unties the apron and pulls it off. “Only for you, Herms, only for you.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Hermann says, “I hate you so much,” but his lips quirk at the corners.

Newt smiles; wider; sits down and lets the comforting atmosphere wash over him.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
